


Spanning Continents

by semele



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:11:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1317691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semele/pseuds/semele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“In five months, you're going to have sex with Veronica Mars,” he remembers as he lies down every night, and his fantasies go wild, but then five months turn into three, two, one, weeks, days, and suddenly Logan finds himself at an airport, and discovers that he's absolutely terrified.</p><p>CONTAINS MOVIE SPOILERS</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spanning Continents

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by youcallitwinter: _what i want is for you to stand there, in your effity white uniform with that harvard mouth and show me some fucking courtesy_

_what i want is for you to stand there, in your effity white uniform with that harvard mouth and show me some fucking courtesy_

Logan thinks about nothing else for the next one hundred and eighty days.

(Okay, that's a lie. He thinks about a lot of things, like orders, engines, porridge, or internet connection. But he doesn't _think_ think about them, so it doesn't count.)

They don't get much time to talk, because she's working herself crazy, and he isn't exactly on holiday, but he still manages to get used to her, somehow. New Veronica – long-distance Veronica, a fleshless voice spanning continents to deliver a quip or endearment. She isn't good at words, never was, not at this kind of words, so mostly she lets him do the talking. Or they catch up, which often ends with Logan filling her in on the last decade of Neptune's special brand of gruesome she's currently crusading against. It doesn't really add much to what she already knows – Veronica is the Batman Neptune deserves, and she does her homework – but it's a good prelude to talk about her work. Apparently Mac is working with her as a kind of an after-hours honorary PI, slash Q, slash evil mastermind, and they make a great team while Wallace produces highly amusing if unnecessary commentary.

“I'm in a relationship with Veronica Mars,” Logan tells himself sometimes, and it sounds fucking surreal. Veronica has always been a memory, an anchor, an itch, and a bruise, so now he can add “a voice” to the collection no problem, but adding her as a whole does not compute, despite the two weeks they spent together before duty called. 

“In five months, you're going to have sex with Veronica Mars,” he remembers as he lies down every night, and his fantasies go wild, but then five months turn into three, two, one, weeks, days, and suddenly Logan finds himself at an airport, and discovers that he's absolutely terrified.

***

Veronica picks him up as promised, but she's half an hour late, and Logan has a hard time focusing on her rapid explanation. He picks up a few random words, “Weevil”, “Lamb”, “gun”, “moron”, then shakes himself into focus.

“It's alright, Veronica. I ordered coffee and waited, no big.”

They reach the car by the time he realizes that, in the frenzy of her apology, he didn't even kiss her hello, so he reaches to her hesitantly. It's unimaginably awkward, the tangible physicality of Veronica Mars hitting him after one hundred and eighty days of her being no more than a voice, but he pushes through and makes himself touch her face.

“I missed you,” he says, clinging to the familiarity of voices, and Veronica kisses him full on the mouth.

It feels like taking a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Home?” he whispers into her hair as he pulls her close.

“Home.”

***

Neither of them specifies whose home, but Veronica seems to have something in mind, because she drives them straight to his. Most of the way, Logan wants to laugh out loud, because he's experiencing the strangest and most exhilarating mixture of a raging boner and overwhelming tenderness, how utterly predictable.

Some residual tension is still lodged firmly between them as Logan opens the door and sets his bag on the floor. There's some talk of jet lags and making more coffee, the familiarity of voices shaken up by physical awkwardness, so Logan acts on pure impulse: he stops talking mid-sentence, and pulls Veronica into a tight hug.

He has no idea how long they stand in the hallway, clinging to each other. Must be long, long enough for comfort to unravel and relax their bodies.

Loving Veronica Mars, it turns out, is like riding a bike.

“Come on,” he whispers. “While I'm still in my effity white uniform, I believe I owe you a show of, how did you say it? 'Some fucking courtesy'?”

It's an unbelievably cheesy thing to say, but he can't help himself, and when he's awarded with a watery chuckle, he grins like an idiot and carries Veronica to his bedroom.

The sheets are so crisp and fresh they stun him for a moment, the way everyday things do each time he comes home, but this is another mess to deal with, an army mess to work out with an army shrink later, much later, because now he has something important to do, and if he doesn't do it now, his head might explode.

He settles Veronica on the bed, and kneels between her legs.

She's a mixture of familiar and unfamiliar, memories of a teenage body and an adult body, and a voice finally allowed to be incoherent.

As soon as he's done undressing her, Veronica grabs his hand, and it tells him more than a thousand words.

Their joined hands rest on her stomach as he starts kissing his way down her thigh, and they stay there all the time. Veronica doesn't let go even when she sits up and grabs the collar of his uniform jacket with her free hand, pulling him closer, faster, harder. Once his head is between her legs, Logan knows exactly what to do, but he takes his time re-learning, tracing differences with his fingers and punctuating them with his tongue. Veronica has always been larger than life, and she keeps growing still, turning, twisting, evolving, shifting. A slight lick to the left that never did anything for her suddenly makes her cry out, and Logan keeps working until she's boneless, her heavy breath and heavy legs undeniably real.

They barely speak for the rest of the night.


End file.
